Sanctuary
by pmonkey815
Summary: The new fellow forces Cameron to fight with feelings she thought she'd squashed long ago. Eventual Cadley/Camteen. Formerly titled "Deviant"
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so I know I haven't updated Can't Have it All in a really long time and there are reasons for that. The first is that my muse is fickle for that story, and I need a second before I can write a really good next chapter. The second is that I feel like my understanding of Cameron is… fleeting. I want to be able to write her really solidly, like I feel I can with Thirteen. So, this fic will be third person narrative focusing largely on Cameron's experience of the situation and attempting to stay really true to her character. Which means… she's not going to be all childlike sunshine and puppies and this ride is not going to be smooth for the two of them. If you're feeling like she (or Thirteen for that matter) is OOC, I would appreciate feedback. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"Cameron." Chase sighed, raising a hand to snap in front of the blonde's face. "Allison. _Allison." _He repeated, a little louder and with annoyance edging his voice.

Cameron jumped, turning to take in the source of the voice and smiling weakly at her boyfriend when she recognized him.

"Robert. You scared me." She leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Yeah, well, I didn't start with the snapping, but you were too busy staring at House's new plaything to pay me any attention." As annoyed as he sounded, a smirk rested gently on his lips, and he leaned backwards against the nurse's station next to Cameron.

"What? I wasn't staring at her." Cameron mumbled, looking back down at the paperwork she'd only gotten through about half of before noticing the mysterious doctor's presence across the room.

"Oh, come on. You're not exactly sly about it. Why do you hate her so much anyway?"

"I don't hate her." Allison signed the bottom of the discharge paperwork and snapped the file shut, handing it off to a nurse. "What makes you think I hate her?"

"Because you were practically shooting ice beams out of your eyes at her." He scoffed at her denial, but still placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She let a sigh escape her lips. "Okay, I don't like her. It's not a big deal. People don't like other people all the time."

Chase chuckled. "You've barely said two words to the woman, how do you know you don't like her? I think she's nice, surprisingly enough."

"You have every right to like her, even to hang out with her if you want. I just don't want to." Chase cocked an eyebrow at Allison, a half-smirk gracing his soft features. "She just irks me okay?" She finally gave into Robert's silent pressuring. "She's selfish and self-involved. She comes to work hung over and expects us all to feel bad and fall all over her because she's dying." She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced back up at Thirteen's form, still chatting with a patient across the room. "We all go through hard things, it's not a license to be an ass."

"House is way more of an ass than she is and you were in love with him." Chase quipped, shoving his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.

"She is nothing like House." Cameron scoffed, rolling her eyes. She was starting to get really tired of this conversation.

"You're right. Chronic leg pain gives you way more right to be a drug addict and an ass than Huntington's."

"House is a genius. She's…" She motioned at Thirteen, still not taking her eyes off her. "Careless. Spoiled. Everyone hands her everything. Even House." She grabbed the file the nurse had replaced the last one with and flipped it open.

"So, you're jealous because House is nicer to her than he was to you?"

Cameron turned to Chase with fire flashing in her eyes. "This has nothing to do with House." She tucked the file under her arm, readying to head to exam room 3. "Stop twisting my words."

* * *

Cameron didn't usually run in the evenings. Runs were usually reserved for mornings before work or afternoons on lazy weekends. But today was different. Today she needed to clear her head. That's what running had always done for her, it was an escape better than anything else she'd ever tried: she wasn't much of an artist, drugs had bad decisions and nasty hangovers, and throwing herself into work meant someone would realize how much overtime she'd put in and send her home or worse-make her take a vacation.

No, this is what she needed. The burning in her muscles faded eventually, the groaning dropping away to a raw numbness she craved in situations just like this. It wasn't punishment-not exactly. It was her constant striving for perfection. She wanted the perfect house, the perfect husband, the perfect job, the perfect body—had since she was fourteen, when… She shook her head and turned the speed up on her treadmill with a few swipes of her finger, the familiar burn returning to her calves. She wasn't going to think about that. She _couldn't_ think about that. This was her escape from that reality, her lifeline to forget the day her world had begun to change. It had started innocently enough, she remembered, whispers in her bedroom, her brother playing nervously with the peeling paint on the wall. And then he'd said it. It wasn't like she'd minded much, but her parents. It didn't matter much what she thought.

She slammed her hand down on the stop button, slowing with the treadmill and leaning her head down between her knees so she could catch her breath. Her conversation about Thirteen echoed through her head. She had legitimate reasons for not liking Thirteen. She was a womanizer, an addict, a manipulator. She was without scruples, and she did what she wanted without giving a shit who she hurt. She dropped people once they weren't useful to her anymore. And she's beautiful. _Ridiculously _beautiful. So she got away with it. It wasn't fair. She grabbed the towel off the couch and rubbed it on her shoulders, wiping away the salty perspiration that had built up on her skin. Her phone vibrated, and she frowned at the name that flashed on the screen.

"Allison Cameron." She rolled her eyes at the information from the voice on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I can come by for a consult."

And just like that, she was back at the hospital. She hadn't had time to shower, but she'd thrown on some black pants and a short-sleeved button-up with a tight vest over it—a vast improvement over yoga pants and a tank top. Not that House would have minded. She pushed through the glass door and stood over the table, crossing her arms and jutting her hip out to the right.

"You called me for a consult?"

"No." House growled back. "_Foreman_ called you to come in here, look at the patient file and tell me it's lupus in a ridiculous attempt to prove me wrong."

While he was talking, she'd picked up the file, leafing through the paperwork. "It _is _classic lupus. Right down to the butterfly rash." She muttered, still searching the paperwork for any more signs.

"Lupus is a catch-all diagnosis. It's lazy. It's what doctors diagnose people when they're not sure what exactly is wrong with their immune system." House shot back, knocking the file out of her hands with his cane.

She let out a sigh. "Autoimmune diseases are complicated, House. You know that. There aren't really conclusive tests for-"

"Blah blah blah. I knew I replaced you with Thirteen for a reason."

"You didn't replace me by choice, I quit." She squatted down to pick up the papers, which luckily had been clipped into the folder.

"Close enough. She's prettier than you, anyway." He jerked his head up to look at her expectantly.

"Oh, thank you." She replied dryly, eyes not lifting from her copy of the file in front of her. "Now that I have your approval, I can finally have meaning in my life."

Cameron felt her lips wrap into a smile, but quickly bit it back. "So, can I go since you've thoroughly rejected my medical opinion or would you like to insult me some more?"

"You're sweaty." He ignored her, propping his feet up on the table and cocking his head sideways at her.

"Yeah, I went for a run after work and when Foreman called me in, I made the mistake of thinking I was actually needed." She replied, suddenly self-conscious standing in front of the room of doctors.

"Don't worry, it's hot. Right, Thirteen?" Once again he glanced at her expectantly; though this time she raised her head to sweep her eyes over Cameron's small frame.

Allison looked away, focusing her attention to her breathing to be sure it was steady and nobody would notice the sudden flush of color into her skin.

"There's a room full of men here that could tell you Dr. Cameron's attractive. Why are you singling me out?" Thirteen let her hand fall onto the table with a soft smack.

"Because it would only be hot if you made out with her." He responded, turning his attention back to the rest of the team. "Go get an LP."

"What, you think it's neurological?" Foreman asked, holding up a hand to Taub, who had begun to gather his things.

"I think it could me meningoencephalitis."

"Except he has none of the symptoms of meningoencephalitis and all of the symptoms of lupus." Thirteen butted in, re-reading the file as if there were some major component she'd missed.

"Who's the boss here?" House asked, looking around the room at all of the eyes focused on him. "I think it's me. Do what I say." Foreman and Taub stood, readying to head to the patient's room. "Actually," House interrupted, "I think it would be more fun for our resident immunologist to get a lesson in lupus. Thirteen, help her. Taub and Foreman, go home. It's the fourth night of Channukah, after all. Couldn't make you two work on such an important occasion." And with that, he stood and walked into his office.


	2. Psalms 37:8

A/N: Still stuck on my other fic and still busy as all hell. But had a burst of energy with this fic and wanted to post what I'd had so far. Let me know what you think! (Anybody out there?) Their interactions are going to start being more heavily involved in the next chapter, so bear with me and my glacial pace!

"You handle House's antics pretty well." Cameron broke the silence, previously occupied only by the soft rustling of their clothes as they walked to the patient's room. The hallway was almost empty except for the nighttime crew of doctors, administrators, and nurses who would pass with a smile or a yawn on their way to fulfill their duties. It was a distinct difference from the ER, Cameron noticed, which was almost always well-staffed and bustling. The lack of windows hid the passage of time, the fluorescent lighting a constant in the chaos. Not here, where the gaping windows revealed the nighttime sky full of stars.

"Yeah." Thirteen replied simply, her sturdy work shoes scuffing the floor, sending a squeak echoing through the hall. She had her hands shoved in her pockets, pushing her white lab coat back behind her hips.

"Did you grow up with brothers?" She pressed, watching Thirteen for any sort of reaction, but instead getting the same blank stare she'd gotten any time she'd tried to ask her a question.

"What makes you think that?" They stopped outside of the patient's room, standing on either side of the glass door.

"Nothing, I guess. I grew up with a brother, and it felt a lot like working for House." Cameron offered a warm smile, a truce for the duration of the procedure.

Thirteen tugged open the door without responding, walking into the patient's room with Cameron on her heels.

"Hey, Taylor. How're you feeling?" Thirteen asked, stopping at a monitor to write down his vitals.

"As good as I can be, I guess." The patient, a teenage boy with a reddish brown mop of hair, replied, attempting a weak smile at Thirteen.

"Good." Thirteen turned to the other two occupiers of the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Madigan. Could I speak with you for a moment?"

They looked at each other, standing and smiling at Taylor before following Thirteen into the hallway. Cameron took the opportunity to pull up a chair next to the patient's bed.

"Hi. I'm Dr. Cameron." She had practiced this a million times: A warm smile—not too big, closed-mouth—a firm handshake, and soft, steady eye contact.

"Taylor." The boy grabbed her hand, falling easily into the comforting eyes of the immunologist. "So, what are they talking about?" He nodded his head toward the figures of Dr. Hadley and his parents, watching from under furrowed brows.

"Dr. Hadley's getting your parents' consent to perform a lumbar puncture." Cameron was keeping close tabs on Taylor's facial expression, though he was still much more interested in the trio outside the door. "Don't worry, she's an amazing doctor."

"I know." He finally turned his attention back to Cameron. "I asked them to let her be my doctor instead of that old guy."

"Dr. Taub?" Cameron suppressed the smirk that threatened to make itself known to the patient, covering for herself by pressing for more information. "Why did you want to switch?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "He was more interested in explaining things to my parents. But she explains it to me as she's doing it. I like that."

Cameron nodded. Though informed consent was a basic in medical school, it almost surprised her that Thirteen practiced it with her patients. It had been hard enough trying to get House not to blatantly lie to his patients when she'd worked for him.

The scraping of the glass door sliding open broke the two from their thoughts.

"All right, Taylor." Thirteen came to stand next to Cameron, placing a hand casually on the back of her chair. "Let's get you prepped for a Lumbar Puncture."

Twenty minutes later, they were in a separate exam room, Taylor laid on his side on a flat table, Thirteen and Cameron standing side by side in front of him.

"This is iodine, all right?" Thirteen held up the gel so he could see what she was talking about, continuing only when he nodded. "Dr. Cameron's going to apply this first so that you don't get an infection. It's just an anti-septic." She picked up one of the needles. "This is going to numb the area so you won't feel anything." She picked up the final, largest needle. "And this is what we're going to be inserting into your spine. It can be dangerous, but Dr. Cameron has done a million of these, okay? So you don't have anything to worry about."

Taylor nodded again, shutting his eyes tightly. "What do I need to do?"

"Turn over and try to curl yourself as tightly into the fetal position as possible without straining yourself." It was Cameron's turn to play doctor, standing and prepping the iodine gel as Thirteen opened the back of the boy's gown. She spread the gel in large circles on Taylor's back, sighing when he tensed. "Hey, Taylor. I know it's hard, but this is going to be a lot easier for all of us if you try to relax." He glanced over his shoulder to meet her soft blue eyes. "Can you try to do that for me?"

He nodded, dropping his head back down. "Dr. Hadley?" He questioned tentatively.

"Yeah?" She walked around so he could see her while they talked, and so he wouldn't notice the syringe Cameron was preparing behind him.

"I know this is stupid, but…." He let out a long breath as Cameron slowly pushed the first needle into his skin. "Would you hold my hand? I'm scared."

Thirteen glanced up at Cameron over the boy's body, receiving a shrug in return.

"Uh, sure." She pulled a chair up and reached over to grab his hand. "But you have nothing to be scared of. The risks sound scary, but they're extremely unlikely when the-"

The monitor above the bed started beeping erratically and Thirteen practically knocked the chair over she stood so fast.

"Oh, shit. Dr. Hadley, it-it hurts!" Taylor moaned, writhing on the bed.

"BP keeps rising." She mumbled, half to herself, and half for the benefit of Dr. Cameron. "Cameron, what are you doing to him?" She looked over Taylor's body, to steal a glance at the blonde, who was sitting with her mouth agape.

"Nothing." She looked up and down his body for signs of an allergic reaction, but the skin was fine. "I didn't even start the procedure." She shook her head in disbelief.

Thirteen squatted down to look him in the eye. "Taylor, what hurts?"

"Everything." He groaned out between gritted teeth. "God, make it stop!" He looked up at Thirteen with increasingly wild eyes.

"Cameron." Thirteen didn't take her eyes off the young man still holding her hand in front of her. "Haldol. Now."

* * *

Cameron sighed, pulling her phone from her pocket and smiling at what she found.

_Got tired of waiting, so I'm bringing our dinner date to you. Soup or sandwich?_

Robert Chase could definitely be a pain in the ass sometimes, but every now and then he managed to come through in a big way. She didn't deserve all the affection he lavished on her. Yet in a way, it was unwanted. Their entire relationship had been the product of a hundred no's and one exhausted, broken-down yes. And now here she was, years later and practically living with the man and yet she couldn't shake the need for something… unstable. Something so opposite of herself it kept her in touch with being alive, kept her out of the monotone of work and home. She'd had this argument with herself a million times, and she went through the motions of reminding her subconscious she could have both. She made a mental note to call some of her friends from college she'd lost touch with and went out to hunt down her boyfriend and his bag of food.

She figured diagnostics would be a good bet, considering that's where she said she'd been called to, but the room was empty save for House bouncing his ball against the whiteboard, waiting impatiently for the team to assemble. House. He had been exactly what she wanted. Crass, crude, careless. She knew deep down behind his tortured genius façade, he was sweet and caring. She hated that she'd rarely been able to pull that part of him out, and eventually she had begun wondering if it had ever existed or if she'd just made it up for her fantasies. After a minute of watching him think, she turned around, not wanting to give him the opportunity to notice her, and headed for the ER. That was the only other place she could think of Chase being. After asking around the reception desk a little, she was pointed to exam "room" three.

"I'm sorry." Robert's muffled voice came through the curtain that acted as a wall, causing Cameron to pause with a hand on the thick vinyl. "It's just… you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Her hand grasped the curtain tighter and she pushed it open as slowly and calmly as she could. The curtain barely made a whisper as it slid apart, unveiling the scene inside.

"No, Dr. Cameron's eyes are much more beautiful than mine." Thirteen glanced up at Allison, who had quietly made herself known with her entrance. "You just get to look at them all the time so they're not exotic anymore." She pushed off the bed, forcing Chase back a few steps from where he'd been hunched over her arm. "Thanks for gluing me up." She nodded at Cameron on her way out, ducking her head down to avoid the older woman's wrath.

"What the hell, Robert?" Cameron snapped, trying her best to keep the volume of her voice down in her workplace.

"It wasn't what it looked like." He promised, holding his hands up defensively. "I was helping her fix up her arm. I just had never noticed her eyes before, that's all. They're incredible."

Cameron scoffed and looked away, fighting tears that threatened to fall. Would Chase throw away everything they'd built for a night with a woman who would probably not remember his name in the morning?

"Look, Allison." He took a step forward, placing his hands on her shoulders, "you have nothing to worry about, okay? I'm not going anywhere." He nudged her chin upward with his fingers, and looked deeply into her eyes. "And she was right, anyway. Your eyes are way more beautiful than hers." He leaned down and kissed her gently, pulling away after a couple of seconds, and gathering her body closer to his chest.

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" She murmured, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat.

"No, what you saw was…" He became quiet, grasping silently for the right word. "Unsettling." Her forehead ground against his chest as she nodded her agreement. "But you can trust me, okay?" A moment passed, and he hesitantly added, "can I ask you something?"

"Mm-hmm." Her voice was muffled against his chest and she pressed her face harder into the material of his shirt, taking in the soothing smell of his cologne.

"Why didn't you help Thirteen?" Cameron stiffened in his arms at the question, her entire body tensing in resistance. "I just mean, it's not like you to not even offer to help. Do you really hate her that much?"

Cameron let out a deep sigh, pulling away from his body slightly to look into his eyes. "No, I just had more important things to do. She's a doctor, it's just a cut."

He pulled back and crossed his arms over his chest. "A cut I thought needed stitches on her dominant forearm. She was going to apply a butterfly bandage to it."

"That would have been fine."Cameron shot back, mirroring his body language, quirking an eyebrow in defiance.

"It would've been one hell of a nasty scar. It's already going to be bad with just the surgical glue we compromised on."

"Why the hell do you care so much about this, Chase? We're in a hospital; she's surrounded by doctors who could help her. This is about her stubbornness, okay? Not mine." She turned and walked away, deciding her grumbling stomach could wait until she got home.

* * *

"What did you do?" House snapped the second she pushed open the door to diagnostics. She had seen it building as she made her way down the hall, House watched her through the glass wall the entire walk, tapping his cane on the floor over and over again.

"I didn't do anything." She dropped into an open chair next to Foreman, resting her elbows on the table. "It wasn't an allergic reaction. He's not paralyzed. It wasn't my fault." She emphasized the last point, returning House's glare without a second's hesitation.

"He was fine before you administered the anesthetic!" House was frustrated; exasperated. She knew this was his way of pushing her harder, and of blowing off steam, but it wasn't her job to be his punching bag anymore.

"Look, House. He had a psychotic break. Psychotic breaks are brought on by stress. Lumbar punctures are stressful. It's unrelated." She pushed back, and he seemed to consider what she said for a second. He looked over to Thirteen, who had been watching uninterestedly.

"I think she's right. Taylor seemed stressed out before the procedure began. He asked me to hold his hand before she administered the anesthetic." Thirteen jumped in warily.

House turned to look at the whiteboard again, the words "PSYCHOTIC BREAK" written in at the bottom and circled four times. "But what if it is related?" He glanced up at the team who looked at one another. "Differential diagnosis for chronic fatigue, rash, compromised immune system, and psychotic breaks. Go!"


	3. Psalm 46: 1-3

Hi, everyone. I haven't given up on any of my stories yet. I _will_ finish them. It's almost spring break and I hope to churn out a few chapters of each during the next couple weeks. That being said, it's not break time yet so this one's kind of short. This chapter's also sort of emotionally intense, so be prepared for that. I've worked in fields where you have to suspend your sense of horror before, so I was letting some of that emotion out. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing, and do it more cause it'll make me super duper happy during finals.

* * *

Some nights she dreamt she was drowning. No, not drowning; she wasn't suffocating, there was no thrashing or fear or basic instinct to survive or escape; no. It was more like floating, kept in suspended animation like an alien in a science fiction movie. Underwater, her lungs aching with desire for air. It wasn't uncomfortable, the water was warm and comforting and she had no idea what lurked above the surface. Sure, there was air but at what cost? So she floats in her dreams, staring up toward the sky, or down at the depths below her, biding her time. And his voice would float to her as though the water were actually waves of sound, her name ambient in these depths, enveloping her. "Allison." He wakes her because she's talking in her sleep again, whimpering and murmuring. Mostly it's incoherent, he tells her, but sometimes she mumbles words like "okay," or "yeah." "Sure." "Whatever you want." He tells her it reminds him of when her mom calls. Those nights, she smiles and laughs. Tells him to go back to sleep and waits until his breathing gets deep again. She slips to the living room with her cell phone, cradling it in both hands like a treasure, a foreign object she doesn't understand but somehow knows is precious, and she looks at the name and number. She stares at it for a long time as though this time she's finally going to work up the nerve to call. But she never does, and she never will.

* * *

The ER was hell. A major incident flooded the emergency room with people; sobbing family members, patients, media crews, paramedics, staff called in to ease the pressure on the doctors and nurses not equipped to handle the chaos. It was one of those days but worse.

"Excuse me, doctor!" A reporter ran after Cameron, catching up even at her brisk pace."Doctor, can I ask you a few questions about the shooting and the condition of the children?"

Cameron turned sharply on her heel, glaring down yet another pushy man with a comb-over. "I have no comment. Dr. Cuddy is the official spokesperson of the hospital, and she'll make her statement at the press conference later today, as she announced earlier. Excuse me." She pushed her way past the man, spotting a gurney rolling toward her, accompanied by a paramedic. They made brief eye contact, their horror suspended for the moment, as they turned their attention to their work.

"5-year old female, three bullet wounds in the abdomen. She's losing a lot of blood." The paramedic spoke automatically, the only sign of his humanity in his panting breaths as he rushed alongside the gurney.

The pair of medical professionals halted in a corner, the only place there was room to examine the girl.

"Doctor Cameron!" Allison had almost managed to tune out the rest of the world, the constant cries for her attention, and the beeping of the staff's pager, but this one rang out above the din. She looked up to see a familiar brunette head making its way toward her. "Where do you need me? How can I help?"

"Go see if there's an OR available, and if there is, we need to prep this girl for surgery now." She responded, barely looking up at Thirteen as she attempted to clear some of the blood and get a clearer look at the wounds.

"Surgery? Why? What's going on?" For the first time, Cameron noticed the woman that had entered with the child, and she took in the gaunt face, frazzled hair, and smeared mascara; she was the girl's mother. Her body felt like it was collapsing in on itself suddenly, and when she looked back down at the little girl, that's what she saw.

"Oh, God." She whispered, swallowing as though it could physically repress the disgust she'd learned to ignore so long ago, and put off her return to human just a little longer.

"Oh, my God. It's bad, isn't it? She's going to die, isn't she? No, no, no." The woman covered her mouth, staring at her child for a minute, before she seemed to remember the doctor's presence. "You. Why aren't you doing anything? You should be saving her!" She grabbed Allison, shaking her as roughly as she could, which amounted to a gentle sway in her panic.

"Ma'am," Cameron snapped back into work mode, shaking off the image of the child and focusing her attention on the mother. "I'm doing everything I can, please calm down."

"Calm down? Calm down?!" The woman escalated in an instant, squaring off and directing her emotion at Cameron with a laser-like focus. "How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when my child is dying and you're not doing anything about it?"

"Ma'am, I assure you, we're doing everything we can-"

"Well, what you can isn't good enough! Don't you care about other people at all?!" The woman continued her rant, taking a step closer into Allison's space.

"OR 3 is open and ready…" Thirteen trailed off as she approached the scene, taking in the body language of the mother and other doctor. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is my child is dying and _she _couldn't care less!" The woman snapped, turning to face Thirteen in a burst of movement.

"I'm sure that's not true, ma'am." Thirteen furrowed her brows in concern, placing a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder. "I know this is hard. I know that you're worried about your daughter right now, okay?" The woman nodded, and broke into sobs again, taking a tissue offered by Thirteen from a nearby nurses' station. "I need you to trust us, though. I know it's especially hard to do that. Dr. Cameron is one of the best, most caring doctors in this hospital, okay? She runs this entire department, and she's going to take amazing care of your little girl. If anybody can give her a fighting chance, it's Dr. Cameron." She paused, taking a second to catch the mother's eye. "Okay?"

The woman let out a shaky breath. "Okay. What do we do?"

* * *

Cameron couldn't stop the tears. She wasn't even out of the hospital yet, but it didn't matter. The images hit her every time she shut her eyes, so she forced them open, kept wet by the unstoppable force of her grief.

"Shit." A foreign voice rang out in the formerly empty staff lounge, all of the doctors and nurses leaving the hospital as soon as they could, getting as far away from the tragedy as possible. "Are you okay?"

They both knew it was a stupid question, and Allison laughed, the outburst blurring with her sobs until they were almost indistinguishable.

"I'm fine." She wiped at her eyes, keeping her back turned to Thirteen. She didn't want any fake sympathy right now; she wanted to drown in her own tears; to cry herself to sleep on the uncomfortable couch so that she wouldn't have to face another human being, and especially not Chase. Not Chase because he'd be so _sweet_ and _understanding. _He'd hold her and tell her jokes to try to make her feel good. And she'd laugh, not because they'd be funny, but because she'd want to laugh so that she wouldn't cry anymore. No, she wants to grieve. Grieve over all the patients she'd lost, and all those she would in the future. Grieve over her own humanity.

"You don't seem fine." Thirteen came and sat next to her on the couch, but didn't say anything or look at her, just stared ahead. "It's hard to believe someone could do that to children."

A spasm rocked Cameron's body and she inhaled a rattling breath. "It doesn't matter. I'm fine." She wiped her eyes dry with her sleeve again, and stood, walking over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water.

"Is it about that woman, then? The mother?"

Cameron twitched, anger flooding her limbs. "Look, I don't need your help." She gripped the sink tightly, staring into her warped reflection in the steel. "I didn't need it earlier today, and I certainly don't need it now. Okay?"

"You're mad at me for wanting to help you?" Thirteen's incredulous voice volleyed back, and she stood to face Cameron's back. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. In the ER, I'm your superior. I could've handled that situation. Save your power games for the girls you take home every night." Cameron stood, tensed, against the counter, waiting for Thirteen's biting retort. The absence of response rang out uncomfortably in the silence. Footsteps passed from the couch to the door, then paused.

"Why me?"

Cameron turned her head slightly to take in her colleague, now paused at the door, watching her blankly. "What do you mean?"

"Everybody here only has good things to say about you. At first, I just thought it was gossip, but then I thought maybe you were just one of those rare people that's actually just genuinely…" Thirteen furrowed her eyebrows, clenching her jaw tightly. "Nice." Their eyes connected and Cameron felt her anger subsiding, nausea now swirling in her stomach in its place. "Guess I was wrong." The last statement seemed more like a comment to herself than to Cameron, and she left without another word either forgetting or not caring about the answer to her question.


	4. Psalms 18:4-15

_**The cords of death entangled me;  
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.**_

_**The cords of the grave coiled around me;  
the snares of death confronted me**_

"_Why me?" The thought was certainly not a new one, but right now, it echoed throughout Cameron's body in a way she'd never imagined was possible. Pain engulfed her the way she'd imagined being a fly caught in a venus flytrap must feel—some unknown force digesting you slowly, breaking down your body cell by cell while you struggle helplessly caught in its jaws. She knew she was crying, could see Joe crying across from her, but really the only thing registering was the steady tone of the heart monitor. He came over to her, pulled her to his chest, but suddenly everything that had grown comforting about him—his scent, his stupid silk ties and rough, starchy white shirts—felt wrong, and sent feelings like skittering cockroaches across her skin._

"_Don't." She pushed him away, and stood. She reached out a hand to her husband's face, brushing a strand of hair from where it'd fallen into his eyes, now wide open, unable to care that hair was stuck in them. "No." She placed her lips against the skin of his forehead, already rapidly losing heat, feeling more and more like a table or a dresser by the second. "It can't be real." The sobs of his parents broke into her consciousness and fueled the moment's reality. It was real, entirely too real. She needed to go, to be anywhere but here. She grabbed her coat and keys and dashed out the door._

* * *

"Your patient, House, not mine. You and your team of overpaid doctors can figure it out without me." Cameron, in her sleepiness and frustration, growled into the phone pressed against her ear. She squinted into the bleary deep grays of the morning hours at her alarm clock, but the hands were blurred into darkness, even against the bright white face.

"What?"

The voice on the other end of the line snapped her awake and she sat up, letting the sheets fall and expose her chest to the cold morning air. "The phone said House."

"Oh." There was a pause, a several second delay, like it took a minute for Thirteen to process the simple meaning of the words. "I'm calling from his office."

"I know." Cameron cringed at the stilted conversation, the way Thirteen's voice sounded dead and entirely uninterested. It was one of the things about Thirteen that scared her. Yes, scared was the right word. Thirteen's numbness frightened her. "What do you need?"

"He might not make it through the night. Taylor." Her voice rasped on the boy's name, sending a chill through Cameron's bones. "He asked to see you."

"Why me?" She tugged on the sheets, rough from overuse, and trapped it across her chest with her arms.

A heavy crackling denoted Thirteen's sigh. "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." The plastic clattered onto the nightstand, and Cameron turned to the body next to her, reaching out to touch him, a hand brushing against the rough beginnings of a beard. "Robert." When he didn't stir, panic rose in her chest, threatening to choke her with the memories still fresh in her consciousness. She pushed his shoulder a little rougher than she'd brushed his face. "Robert."

He let out a small moan, twisting his head away from her hand, stubbornly refusing to be awoken from his sleep.

"Robert, I need to go into the hospital."

He grunted, waving a hand in the air to show he'd heard, then letting it thwunk onto the mattress as consciousness left him again. Allison didn't move yet, though, her body stuck, unwilling, resisting leaving the safety of her bed, resisting leaving the body heat that pulsated off her lover for the pristine chill of the hospital. Eventually, she forced herself to her feet and pulled together something that resembled a decent outfit. The outside was cold, colder than even the still air of her bedroom, and she pulled her coat closer around her body, trapping in as much warmth as she could manage. The silence that hung in the air calmed her tingling nerves, though, so at least she could be grateful for that. The drive was short with no traffic, yet another thing to be thankful for.

The doors opened and soon the fluorescent warmth of the hospital sucked her in, and her feet took her of their own accord to the metal lips of the elevator, inside and up to Taylor's room. The room obscured the view of the waiting area tucked behind it as she neared, and the vertical blinds made the scene inside the room a bar code.

"That was fast." Thirteen was leaning—mostly standing with her shoulderblades placing a very light pressure—against the wall across from the doorway. "I didn't expect to see you for another hour or so."

"You said he might not make it through the night." Cameron replied, glanced at the door, where she could see a little redheaded girl talking to Taylor. "Sister?" She nodded to the child, then glanced back at Thirteen, obscured partly by shadow from a column nearby (though the way the place was lighted, lights hit from almost every angle, making complete shadow impossible).

"Yeah." The rasp in Thirteen's voice had returned, and she glanced down at her arms crossed over her chest, toyed with a button that rested against her collarbone, and looked back up. "She's ten." She shook her head, loose waves brushing her cheeks, "he's sixteen."

Cameron took a step forward, noticed the water stains on her cheek, and decided not to mention them. Her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to brush away the remainder of Thirteen's grief, but instead, she turned and let herself fall against the wall next to her.

"I'm sorry about last night." She wiggled her fingers nervously in the pockets of her linen dress pants.

"Don't worry about it." Thirteen's angular face seemed to harden—making her somehow more beautiful and statuesque than she usually was— and the muscles in her cheeks throbbed; Cameron again fought the urge to trace the gentle curvature of her face.

"No, you were right. I've been harsh with you, and you deserve an explanation." She sighed, and moved her hands from her pants to the soft cashmere of her cardigan. "I think you just—I think I just came really close to being you." Her words came out as a jumble, and she shut her eyes and jaw tightly.

Thirteen snorted. "Is this gonna turn into Dr. Cameron's touchy-feely overshare story time?" She turned her attention back to the family framed in the doorway. "I'm really not in the mood."

"You're sad about him dying so young. It hurts to watch, doesn't it?" It had slipped out of Cameron's mouth, and she wondered if she'd come to regret it sometime soon. The air between the two of them contracted and tightened, and Cameron swallowed.

"I don't like losing patients." Thirteen was in defense mode, and she squared off, facing Cameron directly now. "I happen to remember walking in on you crying hysterically over patients in the ER staff lounge last night."

"You're right. Nobody likes it, but it happens to everybody."

"Death is a fact of life. _The _fact of life." The air molecules warmed and expanded, began to move again in a light breeze from the changing pressure in the hallway.

"You were crying." It was against Cameron's better judgment to push these sorts of things, but Thirteen's cold façade had cracked as she stared off, and her morbid curiosity had begun to get the better of her.

Thirteen sighed, shutting her eyes tightly, veins like roots visible in her eyelids from so close a distance.

"It's okay." Allison's hand brushed the rough polyester of Thirteen's lab coat, her fingers instinctively snagging in the fabric, holding it desperately, and pulling forward ever so gently, yet hard enough to make Thirteen open her eyes. She glanced down at the hand, up at Cameron's face.

"I have to go be with Taylor." She turned to walk, but Allison's grip didn't loosen.

"No." She tugged again, this time pulling Thirteen successfully a couple inches toward her. "Don't run away. I've been where you are, and running made it so much worse."

"You've never been where I am." This time when Thirteen pulled away, her coat slipped easily from Cameron's fingers, and she disappeared into the room.

* * *

"_Allie?" The question came from behind a curtain of thick curls, hair that was usually so carefully swept off to the left. "What are you doing here? It's late."_

"_Sometime after 3:46 am." Cameron whispered, mouth hanging open, mouthing the words she was meaning to say but couldn't bring herself to._

"_Allison, what's going on?" The curls had been brushed urgently aside as though they were the obstruction of understanding. "You're scaring me."_

"_He died at—" Her voice crumbled, tumbled into silence with a crashing sob. "At 3:46 am. They called it, and I needed—" She was sobbing, her breaths coming in heaves that broke each sentence into something almost unrecognizable. "I needed you."_

_The other woman inhaled sharply through her nose, digging her fingers deeply into her upper arms. "I thought you said you didn't want to be around me anymore."_

"_I don't care about any of that anymore." The sobs had subsided for the moment, the interaction like novocaine. "I want to feel good." She stepped forward, buried her tear-soaked face in the exposed neck just below the bobbing ringlets. "I want to be near you." She inhaled deeply, letting her lips graze the skin there as she did. "Please let me stay tonight."_

_A slow exhale this time, and the girl took a step back. "Okay. Just for tonight, though." She stepped backward, engulfed in the black tint of the dark hallway, and reached out a hand to lead Cameron down the way she'd have been able to travel in pitch blackness. But still she accepted the hand and allowed herself to be taken forward._

_**In my distress I called to the Lord;  
I cried to my God for help.  
From his temple he heard my voice;  
my cry came before him, into his ears.  
The earth trembled and quaked,  
and the foundations of the mountains shook;  
they trembled because he was angry.  
Smoke rose from his nostrils;  
consuming fire came from his mouth,  
burning coals blazed out of it.  
He parted the heavens and came down;  
dark clouds were under his feet.  
He mounted the cherubim and flew;  
he soared on the wings of the wind.  
He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him—  
the dark rain clouds of the sky.  
Out of the brightness of his presence clouds advanced,  
with hailstones and bolts of lightning.  
The Lord thundered from heaven;  
the voice of the Most High resounded.  
He shot his arrows and scattered the enemy,  
with great bolts of lightning he routed them.  
The valleys of the sea were exposed  
and the foundations of the earth laid bare  
at your rebuke, Lord,  
at the blast of breath from your nostrils.**_

A/N: So, getting heavy now. What do you think? Worth the wait? Enjoying the flashbacks? Let me know!


	5. Psalm 10: 9-12

Well, here we go. My days off this week were fucking prolific (as you'll see from this giant update). That being said, look for an update of Can't Have it All by next weekend. And, as always, I love reviews and whatnot. They make me super duper happy, which everyone tells me is a good thing. Anyway, enjoy!

_It was raining the day they went to go see him. It's possible that bit was just an editorial interjection; the brain has a way of taking the imprint of an event and extrapolating, fabricating the intimate details of how the day should have been or should have gone, like the remake of a movie or a play with an unending queue of directors waiting ravenously to destroy it through "interpretation." That's all the brain was, really: the unskilled director in a community playhouse adapting the grand literature of art into something barely recognizable. But only the big plot points really matter, anyway. They'd pulled her from the house, complaining about her vanity. This was why she was sure it was raining: the humidity was poofing her hair out and making it unmanageable. And it just didn't seem right to go see him with imperfect hair._

_"Ally, you're _never_ like this. Quit stalling or we won't be able to talk to him!" Her mother was standing in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her waist in her restraint and exasperation._

_Cameron wasn't sure why she cared. After all, her parents were the reason they needed to leave the house to see him in the first place._

_"I'm coming! God, Mom. I only took a couple minutes." She walked out, squeezing past her mom and batting at her hand when it came up to adjust her hair or makeup. Her mom let out a small sigh and followed out to the car, where the Cameron patriarch waited._

_"'Bout damn time." Her father was a man of few words._

_The drive was mostly in silence, the old station wagon filled with an electric fear that stung them whenever they moved or cleared their throats or attempted to think of something to say. Cameron spent most of it staring out the window. Their suburban town had fallen away fairly quickly and abruptly to the wilderness, houses became fewer and farther between, now simply marking the end of one farm plot and the beginning of another. At this point in the season, the crop was just beginning to peek its head out of the ground, which made identifying the plants fairly difficult, with the exception of the occasional established berry bush or fruit tree. Eventually, they turned onto a small paved access road that led to the camp._

_The inside was nice, decorated in clean blacks and greys, accented occasionally with a bright yellow or teal. A white tablecloth and small vase of flowers sat on every table, which were small and round like polka dots against the brown wood floor. He was sitting at one of them, picking at his fingernails impatiently. Everyone else's visitors had already arrived and were sitting and speaking with them. It felt like purgatory, or a giant waiting room to a family psychologist's office. They took a seat across from him, and the smile he gave them seemed to be drowning in his discomfort. _

_"Hey."_

_"Hi, sweetheart." Allison's mother spoke first, reaching out a hand to cover her son's, which had fallen onto the table. "How are you?"_

_Ben grimaced for a split second, pulling his hand back and straightening up in the chair. "I'm good, Mom. How are you?"_

_"Good. They cut your hair." His hair had indeed been cut, shaved up to the sides and cut to an inch on the top—a crew cut, the ultimate masculine fantasy._

_For a minute, they all stared at the table, not moving and trying to think of what to say. What did one say in a situation like this?_

_"How's your…" Her father shifted his weight from his left side to his right. "…treatment going?"_

_"It's good. They say I'm making progress." Both of their parents grinned, glancing at one another with vivid eyes. Neither noticed Ben's grimace was back, a full-body wince that seemed like a sharp pain in his side he needed to coddle to soothe. "Can I-" He paused, brushing his eyes toward Allison, "Could I speak to Allie for a minute? Alone?"_

_"Oh." His mother's smile faded, and she glanced over at her husband. "Sure. You two have been inseparable since you were babies. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up about." She caught her husband's hand under the table and squeezed it before walking over to one of the 'counselors' and talking to them._

_"Allie, can I trust you?" His blue eyes—suddenly alive again—stared intently at her. No longer hidden behind dyed black bangs, they seemed all the more piercing._

_"Of course, Ben." Her brow furrowed and she leaned forward, mimicking his body language._

_"I fell for someone here." His voice was much lower, almost a whisper now, "I don't know how it happened. But, Allie, I love him." Tears quivered in his eyes. "What do I do?"_

_Allison sucked in a deep breath, glancing over at their parents who were watching them closely. "Ben, you can't." She shook her head, looking back to him. "If you don't leave here fixed, they'll kick you out."_

_He ran a hand over his buzzed hair, a habit from when it'd been long and the feeling had been comforting. "I know. But… I can't pretend I don't feel these things. That's what they want me to do—ignore it, and pretend it's wrong!"_

_She rested her forehead against her clenched fists. "I don't want to lose you, Ben. Please." She looked back up into his eyes. "Please, at least pretend to be normal. I just want you back at home, I just want everything to be the way it was."_

_Ben swallowed, leaning back and breaking their conspiratorial ambience. "You don't think I'm normal?"_

_"Ben." Allison's face dropped as she realized what she'd implied. "No, that's not what I-"_

_"Never mind, Allie. You're right." He was playing with his hands again. "I've caused our family too much pain." He stood._

_And that was the last time Allison Cameron spoke to her brother. _

"Flatlining." It was what people had called the noise, or maybe the state of being, of dying in a hospital bed. It was funny, that the term referred to the sight of the pulse's sudden disappearance, yet the first thing most people thought of when they heard it—the thing that made them shudder and close their eyes—was the sound. The low, constant tone that in any other situation would fade easily into the background. Yet even amidst the chaos of rushing crash carts and shouting doctors, it feels like the most prominent feature of the room.

"Wait. No." Mrs. Madigan reached out; grabbed Thirteen by the wrist; shook her head. "I don't want him to suffer anymore." She glanced back at her husband, who gave a slight nod.

Thirteen looked back to the boy's body, helplessness playing across the usually blank canvas of her expressions. Her hands, still holding the charged paddles, twitched; then slowly, they lowered.

"What are you doing? Revive him!" House came limping hurriedly into the room, gesturing at the young man, frustration darkening his features.

"They said no, House. He's gone. It's over." Cameron jumped in where Thirteen's mouth simply hung, face twisted in emotion infected by House's eagerness.

"No. It's not over." He pushed forward, grabbing for the paddles in Remy's hands.

"House!" She finally moved, pulling away, holding the paddles out of his reach. "It's illegal."

"No." He sighed, the tone of his voice rising slightly, "I know what's wrong. If you bring him back, I can save him." He turned to the parents. "You really don't want to do everything in your power to save your son?"

The pair blinked at House, then turned to Thirteen, questioning with a single puzzled glance. "What do you think, Dr. Hadley? Do you think he can save Taylor?"

Thirteen furrowed her brow, her gaze flickering abruptly from Taylor's body, to House, to the Madigans. "I do. I would do it."

"Okay."

Thirteen cleared the area and applied the paddles. Waited, charged them, and applied them again. It had been almost a minute, and she knew if he didn't come back soon he'd be so brain damaged it wouldn't be worth it to continue. One more time, she pressed the paddles to his chest, held them tight as the body jumped against the shock. And the monitor blipped, slowly becoming regular again until the room let out a singular breath of relief. House jumped forward, inserting a syringe into the vein on the boy's forearm.

"We should see results immediately." Silence now save for the steady beep of the monitor, the slow breaths of the unconscious Taylor. It continued that way for a minute, the frown deepening on House's face by the second. Suddenly, the body on the bed convulsed upward, the heart monitor beating well over 200 times a minute. Doctors and nurses scrambled around it, attempting to steady and lessen the effects of the drug, but everyone in the room knew what was happening; everyone had given up the hope that Taylor could ever be a person again.

"Dr. Hadley!"

As she rushed out of the room, Cameron could hear House breathe out the time of death behind her with the glum resignation saved for those few times when he was actually wrong. No puzzle had been solved, he'd only widened the gap of their pain, pressed his fingers into the wound and twisted when he should have been helping stitch it shut. But now she was in the hall, the door shut behind her, chasing Thirteen. "Wait!"

Remy stopped abruptly and turned, not seeming to notice that Cameron had just about ran into her. "What?" Her tone was clipped, as though she had neither the energy nor the patience to house Cameron's need to fix and care and nurture. She brought a hand to rest on her right hip, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead, creasing and folding the skin into loose wrinkles. "Come on, let's get this over with." Her voice had raised a little, and she stepped forward, pressing herself more into Cameron's space.

"I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Cameron stuttered, using all of her energy to fight the urge to step back, to remove herself from the situation and slink away like a kicked puppy; powerless and scared.

"I'm fine." She shrugged loosely. "If that's all, are we done here?"

"He was only sixteen." Cameron was just now managing to wrap her head around the situation as well. "He shouldn't have died."

"No. He shouldn't have." The hollows of Thirteen's cheeks sunk a little, and Cameron imagined she was biting the insides of them. "If only he'd had competent doctors taking care of him."

"That's not what I meant." Allison snapped, grasping Thirteen's shoulder tightly, shaking ever so slightly. "Things like this happen. That wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not." The corners of Thirteen's lips pulled upward even as they turned down, and her nostrils flared. "But I kept their hopes alive."

Cameron watched Thirteen, heartbeat quickening with the realization that she was losing this battle to Thirteen's pessimism and self-hatred. Her fingers grasped tighter against her shoulder. "No."

"They were ready to accept it, to let him go. And I-" Her jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the wall to her right. "Just let me go, Dr. Cameron. I'm tired."

Allison released her grip on Thirteen's shoulder, defeated, and let her walk away. She turned to lean her back against the wall, and brought a hand up to massage her aching shoulders. Time passed; she knew that much, though she wasn't sure how much. All she could manage to do was stare at the tile on the floor, feeling as though she were teetering on a ledge 100 feet away from it, and watch the shadows play across the ground in front of her.

"You're still here?" House's voice was steady, calm, gruff as always. She just nodded, not looking up from the floor. "It's 4 am. Go home before they start charging you rent." His gait sounded awkward, a short, squeaking click as the cane hit the ground followed by the dull thud of his good leg. Click thud, click thud, click thud. All the way down the hall.

She waited until she was sure he was gone before pushing off the wall and heading to the locker room. She tugged open the door, hopeful no one was there. It was several hours until the next shift change, and the only people that used this floor's locker room this late was House's team, anyway. A puff of hot air hit her as she entered, followed by the faint hiss of the shower. She wondered who would have voluntarily stayed this late instead of going to their family, or their bed, or the twenty-four hour grocery store for liquor. Moving toward the lockers, she glanced at the source of the steam, noticing the curtain was unintentionally open just a tad. It wasn't like her to look, but for whatever reason it seemed compelling to know who she was alone in so deserted a place with.

She wasn't expecting it to be Thirteen. Looking back on it, it made total sense that she hadn't gone home, and instead was showering for way longer than necessary. Maybe it was less _who_ it was and more _what_ she was doing. Remy was dripping wet, head pressed back against the tile, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. Her breath was coming irregularly: small, shallow breaths followed with wide, gasping ones. One hand was pressing against the wall nearest her, and the other was tangled in a mess of long dark brown hair at her hip, pressing the woman kneeling in front of her's face harder against her body. Cameron snapped her gaze to the floor, yet something pulled it back; not attraction or pity or anger, something more powerful. Her eyes were locked onto Remy's face, which twisted in grimaces when it should have been pleasure, eyes wide open when they should have been shut, mouth letting out grunts and pained moans when they should have been open, free noises.

This was the infamous sex Dr. Remy "Thirteen" Hadley was having. The woman kneeling in between her legs couldn't seem to tell that Thirteen was on the precipice of something much more powerful and dark than an orgasm. The sex was still a kind of controlled breaking, but without the release that brings one back into being. Just empty tension, her body going through the motions of the sexual response cycle, the band finally snapping and ricocheting throughout her emptiness.

Thirteen's head lolled to the side, eyes alive and shining with more emotion than even Cameron thought would be possible. Those eyes met hers, repulsed them like magnets with the same polarity, and Cameron left, walked as briskly as possible, as far away as possible, until she was sitting in her car, breaths coming harshly and uneasily. Her forehead grinding against the black leather steering wheel.

"Holy shit."

_"Hey. I'm Hannah." The girl plopped down next to Allison on the twin size, extra long bed, leaning back against the wall. "What's your name?"_

_Cameron slowly shut the book she was reading, placing it next to her, and pulling off her reading glasses. "Allison. Most people call me Allie, though." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then crossed her arms over her knees, pulling them in toward her chest._

_"What are you doing in here?" Hannah asked, starting to look around the room, taking in the sparse posters of the dorm room._

_"This is my room. Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" She picked at a rip that had begun to form in her jeans, pulling a strand of hanging denim off and tossing it to the side._

_Hannah laughed, her gaze returning to Allison. "What I mean is, you left the party really fast. Why aren't you socializing with all your suitemates and their friends and shit?" She stretched upward, her shirt rising over her stomach, which was mostly flat but with a hint of a paunch, like a small bit of baby fat she'd never lost. Still, Allison was fascinated by it._

_"I don't really like parties." She cleared her throat, and placed a hand on her book. "Besides, I had reading to do."_

_"Ah." Hannah leaned over, her cheek grazing Cameron's knee. "'The Metamorphasis.' Are you a philosophy major?"_

_Allison shook her head. "I'm Pre-med. Philosophy is just a graduation requirement."_

_"Hmm." Hannah picked her head up, and scooted her hips closer to Allison's. "Well, I can think of a ton of things you could be doing that would be more interesting than reading Kafka for your bullshit Philosophy class."_

_Allison swallowed, but didn't move. This encounter confused her; both because she couldn't place the other woman's motives and therefore found it hard to trust her, and because something about that fear was making her heart pound in her ears. "What do you mean?" They were close enough that she didn't have to speak above a whisper._

_"I mean I saw you looking at me." Hannah brought a hand up to Cameron's knee, "And I wanted you to know I couldn't stop looking at you, either." She leaned closer, and Allison leaned back, moving away from the lips that were pressing into her space, yet they kept moving until she was half on her back, with Hannah hovering over her._

_"What makes you think I was looking at you because I want to sleep with you?"_

_"Let me guess." Hannah shifted so that she was on her knees between Cameron's legs, resting her weight on her outstretched arms. "You're straight?" Cameron nodded, and Hannah laughed. "When I've been wrong and made a pass at straight girls, they've stood up, not moved back so that I would move on top of them." Hannah looked down at their position, and Allison did the same. "I want to kiss you. If you really don't want me to, I won't, but-" She didn't get through any more explanation before Cameron had pulled her down the rest of the way, pressing against her with all the aching longing she'd suppressed so far that year._

"Hey, Doctor Cameron." Thirteen jogged up behind her, catching her as she pulled a curtain shut, unable to run or hide.

"Hey, Thirteen. What can I do for you?" She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear, walking toward the nurse's station as she annotated the file in her hands.

"I just wanted to talk to you about last night." Cameron stopped abruptly, lowering the file in her hand a little. She'd almost completely forgotten about Thirteen seeing her, she certainly never expected her to bring it up. "I know it was wrong."

"Yes, it was." Cameron cleared her throat, pulling the manila folder close to her chest.

"But I want you to know I was off-duty, and she was on a break." Thirteen ran a hand through her brown hair, which was able to hang around her shoulders due to the nature of her job. Sometimes Cameron missed that—envied that freedom. "I mean, I know it was still in the hospital, and that's unprofessional, but I-"

"Stop." Allison interrupted her rambling, gripping tighter onto the paper. "I'm not upset you were fucking in the hospital." Thirteen glanced nervously around, and Cameron plowed forward. "I'm upset because the person you were sleeping with is eighteen."

Thirteen's brow furrowed. "And I'm twenty-eight. According to the New Jersey penal code, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"The penal code is not a substitute for a moral code, Dr. Hadley." Cameron shifted her weight to her right foot, unintentionally jutting out her hip.

"Everything that happened in that locker room was completely consensual." Thirteen's voice was starting to raise slightly, her eyes widening and nostrils flaring.

"You're going to break her heart. I don't think that's okay." Cameron shook her head. "I can't stand by and let that happen and not say anything."

"She knew exactly what she was getting into, Dr. Cameron." Thirteen was mirroring her posture; hip jutted out, her hands gripped tightly on her hips. "I told her clearly I don't do repeat performances."

Cameron laughed, opening her arms for the first time since they'd started speaking. "Dr. Hadley, when you're that young, words don't mean anything to you."

Thirteen's iron glare faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, she's too young to know that people won't change because you want them to. Too young to know that people don't change for anyone but themselves."

"I can't be held responsible for what she does or doesn't know." Her anger had settled into her face, no longer a steely coldness, but a simmering ire.

"Yes, you can. Because you should know better." Cameron hugged the file to her chest again, moving to push past Thirteen, but being caught by the arm.

"What makes you so suddenly interested in my life?"

Cameron looked up to meet her glare, setting her jaw and drawing her back as straight as possible so that she could avoid feeling towered over. "You asked me to be. Remember?"

"That was a moment of—fatigue. I was tired, okay? That's all. Let it go, and leave me alone." Her grip loosened on Allison's arm, yet still lingered, waiting for her next move.

"Consider it forgotten." Cameron tugged her arm free of Thirteen's grip. "I don't want to be around when your train wreck of a life explodes anyway."


End file.
